My Friend

One day when I was somewhere in the vicinity of  9 years old, I met a person who has changed my life in more ways that I can count.  When she reads this, she is probably going to disagree with most of it. She won't believe some of it, and some of it we probably remember differently.

It was a Sunday; the first Sunday in a seemingly endless line of first Sundays that happen when you are the daughter of a somewhat transient pastor.  

I hated these Sundays.  There is nothing quite like walking into a new church, being the daughter of the pastor, and more often than not, dressed exactly like the rest of the people in your 8 person family.   I can't think of words to describe the feeling of knowing that you now have to befriend not only the children your age, but basically everyone else in the church as well.  It is what you do, you are the pastor's daughter.  

After you befriend them, you answer questions like "Why are you all wearing the same clothes?" "Where do you buy your clothes?" "Why do you go to school at home?" "Do you get to wear pajamas all day?" "Is it weird to have so many brothers and sisters?" "What do you DO all day?" "Can you really make your own clothes?" 

For every answer you give, there are a million more questions.  Yes, I can cook, do laundry, bake, preserve food, change a diaper, clean anything that needs to be cleaned, plant a garden, milk a goat, ride a cow, supervise my younger siblings (and a few of the older ones as well), translate Greek and Hebrew into English, demonstrate proficiency at multiple types of handcrafts,  and the list goes on and on and on some more.  After this list of questions there are more questions that usually start with "Why."  What it all boils down to is this question, "What kind of a freak show is going on in Tuckerville?"

  Once we have established sufficient grounds for friendly acquaintance, then we start the dance.  Our relationship becomes complicated.  You don't know what to think of me, I don't know how to act with you.  My whole view of this is not that I met a new friend who I enjoy spending time with.  My 9 year old self wants to be your friend.  My freaky adult-like self knows that in all likelihood, I'm not going to be at this church long enough for it to matter.  If I am,  I can do nothing to dispel the belief that I am weird.  Also, getting to know your parents, grandparents and every other adult in the church is more important because I have to answer important things like my views on homeschooling, raising children, the Triune God, baptism, prayer, healing, speaking in tongues and anything else that comes up.  I am a Tucker, I am home-schooled,  I can quote entire books of the Bible, and my mission in life is to give all glory, praise and compliments to God - and to be a good reflection of my parents.  This is my life.  

After 30 years of being the preacher's daughter, there is a long list friends that I met as a child in church that were and still are my friends.  If we narrow that list to people my age, it gets drastically shorter.  If we narrow it again to girls my age, the list can be counted on one hand.  

Back to 9 year old Martha.  I walked into Calvary Bible Church in Abilene, Texas that Sunday morning 21 years ago.  I knew at this point that there was a vast difference between a friend and an aquantaince.  I was 9 years old and I didn't have friends.  I had brother and sisters.  The only two people I could call a friends in the traditional sense of the word were Annie and Abigail.  Even they were people I saw only on special occasions.  They were my "default" friends because our dads were best friends, we occasionally went to the same churches and they were also home schooled.  They actually fit better into the 'sister' category anyway.  

That day, I saw a girl who I assumed to be my age all the way on the other side of the church.  She wore the most beautiful dress I had ever seen with purple and yellow pansies all over it.  She had the the most beautiful blonde hair and looked almost exactly like a china doll I had seen once and desperately wanted for Christmas.  I didn't get it, because I never told anyone I wanted it.  It wasn't practical, serviceable, useful so it wouldn't have made the cut anyway.   

Lacey Gamble was the most quiet, shy person I had ever met in my life.  She was also very "girly",  a staunch vegetarian, and I had a sneaking suspicion that she mostly wore clothing purchased from actual stores.  She was in every way, everything that I wasn't.  Oh, and she went to school outside of her home.  She was normal.

I launched my "preacher's daughter friendship" campaign because I was supposed to.  It didn't work well.  So I stepped it up a notch.  I made a point to talk to Lacey.  Lacey made it a point to nod and smile.  After a few weeks of this, I saw it as a challenge.  This girl was going to be my friend whether she liked it or not.  So I resorted to a tactic that has proven highly successful for me.  If the shy person seems like they don't want to be your friend, talk to them, sit next to them, ask your mom to let them come over and play.  My plan is simple; they'll either eventually like me and want to be my friend, or they will be my friend simply so I'll scale back and stop bothering them so much.  It worked like a charm.  

I have no idea to this day when the magic moment was that we became real friends.  I think it was when we were sitting in her pink, frilly bedroom (that she didn't have to share with ANYONE) and telling our middle names.  She told me her middle name, and I told her about a book I loved that had a princess with the same name.  Thus launched the first real, honest to goodness, I-haven't-known-you-since-birth, we are close to the same age friendship of my life.  

I did most of the talking, she did most of the laughing.  She liked Annie and Abigail (pretty much a pre-requiste for any sort of lasting relationship in my life), they in turn liked her.  Her dad made me memorize the Circle of Fifths, Fourths, and some really weird jazz chords that I still don't understand.  My mom gave Lacey and her brother piano lessons.  Her dad gave my brother and sister flute lessons.  Possessing adequate knowledge of all things musical, I managed to escape most of these exasperating music lessons and got to know Lacey's mom really darn well.  This earned her mother in the second ever awarded spot in the "Martha's Mothers" club (alternately known as the adults to who I can say or ask anything and be given not only wise advise, but more importantly, it won't be repeated verbatim to my parents) and thus essentially making Lacey and I sisters.  

After a few years, my family moved on to another church.  Lacey stayed my friend.  

Lacey had an endless supply of knowledge for things I knew nothing about.  Disney movies, the Dixie Chicks, Elvis, the Beetles, mascara, nail polish, hair accessories, and a whole lot more.  In return for this forbidden knowledge, I provided as much knowledge as I had for the things that were probably in retrospect totally foreign to her.  

Somewhere in the 2nd or 3rd year of this friendship, it became ok to talk about things that we weren't supposed to talk about.  I don't mean cute boys and gossip magazines.  I mean family problems, I-don't- understand-my-mother problems, things that no one else knew about me that were not blood relatives.  Actually, a lot of things I still don't talk about with blood relatives were discussed on the privacy of the the trampoline or in the horse pasture.  

Fast forward through our short-lived housecleaning business in which I had the distinct honor and downright pleasure of guiding her through the cleaning of her first (and at the time swore would be the last) bathroom only used by males.  It was hilarious.  I laughed, she gagged.  She left her school and was home schooled.  She talked me into going with the youth group to Six Flags.  It was the first and only time I've been.  

We started our first "real" job at the same place either at the same time or within the same couple of months.  We were the Burger Queens of Abilene.  She developed an interest in a particular boy (who is now her husband).  I am still largely annoyed by most males (quite possibly the reason I'm still single). I've had a key to the home she grew up in for more years than I've had keys to the house I grew up in.  I know more about her brother than I know about most of my brothers-in-law.  At some point around year 3 or 4, my family moved on to another church.  Then we came back to Calvery. Then we left again.  Then we came back again.  

Somewhere in our teenage years we had a brief patch of heated disagreements, hurt feelings, huge miscommunication, and probably a lot of raging hormones.  I have no idea how it started but I do know how it ended.  Our boss and youth group leader hauled me into his office and sat me down for a come to Jesus meeting.  I aired my feelings and was told that a friendship this good was worth the fight.  I was instructed to go straight from work to Lacey's house and sit down and work it out and not to leave until it was resolved.  I've never asked, but I think Lacey may have also gotten a come to Jesus meeting.  I've also never asked, but I'm pretty sure he called Lacey's mom and told her to lock us in a room and not to let us come out or feed us until we fixed the problem.  I remember we sat in her room, yelled, cried, explained, re-explained, cried some more, hugged and resumed our lives.  I also remember that it took a while.  

After that our relationship started to change.  She left our Burger joint job.  I stayed for  6 years.  I went to college with a passion.  She did not share that passion.  We both became busy with the details of our young adult lives and by necessity and busyness stopped seeing each other as much.  We both had cell phones though and boy did we keep those minutes rolling by.  

Age 17 to 24 I don't have as many interesting stories to tell.  This was a time in my life the details of which few people know all about.  Lacey is at the top of that list.  Even fewer people have heard me be totally open and brutally honest about my thoughts, feelings, and experiences of those years.  Lacey is one of 3.  Those same 3 are the only ones that I completely trust to take my hand and help me revisit the memories of those years.  She's heard the same things about the same events for more than 10 years now.  It doesn't matter if it keeps on for another 30.   That giant long discussions when we were teenagers to sort out our differences is the moment I first realized that I'm not the type of person who can discuss, analyze, process, and heal.  My road to healing is fraught with discussion, analyzation, processing and then repeat it all again.  She knows me and loves me enough to walk through all the repeats, all the possible outcomes, all the possible shortcomings, every possible variable and then sit back and watch a small part of me heal.  Then we do it all again.  

One of the best moments of that time in my life was getting the phone call from Lacey that she was engaged to the aforementioned boy.  Even better than that was playing at their wedding.   Of all the weddings I have attended in my life -which is a lot - theirs has been my favorite.  But that is a whole other story.

Age 25-26 we set off into a brave new world.  She was a wife.  I was a teacher.  She lived 10 minutes from her family.  I live two hours from mine.  She went through a time of fighting her own demons which were in some ways very similar to mine, but in other ways polar opposites.  Her issues were rooted in the discovering her identity.  My issue were rooted in juggling mine.  The phone calls lessened significantly.  What did not lessen was the knowledge that if we needed each other, we would find a way whether it be by phone, email, text, carrier pigeon, or prayer.  

The purpose of what I am writing is this.  There is a lot to Lacey that people don't know.  Lacey went on a mission trip to China that transformed her from my childhood friend into someone that is mighty in spirit, bold, and honest.  Lacey also deals with a severe anxiety disorder.  We have spent many hours sitting in her car trying to figure out what causes it, how to deal with it, and more importantly, how to live with it.  We have boldly sat in Olive Garden long past finishing dinner because if you have to do battle with the Devil, you may as well have eaten awesome food first.  One recurring issue the last 6 or so years has been weighing the decision of wanting children, but first needing to not be on medication that makes you able to function.  This is an issue that we have in common; Lacey for anxiety and me for chronic pain.  We have both always known we would grow up and be mothers.  It's one of those things we both want, but not necessarily with the same intensity.

In 2011, I moved to Dallas to take a job that has easily proved to be the most stressful, challenging, and time-consuming of my life.  I basically shut down for a year and didn't communicate with anyone if it wasn't by a two line text message.  I frequently found my self driving home from work at 10 or 11 at night in tears.  Not just tired tears,  but full-on I am totally alone tears.  I'm pretty sure in that year I actually physically saw Lacey 1 time and spoke to her on the phone maybe twice.  One of my biggest fears in life is growing apart from my closest friends.  I've come to realize that we aren't growing apart per se, we are just growing and maturing in different ways.  

In October 2011 my phone rang.  At this point my first reaction when I see Lacey calling me is worry and concern, so I freaked out, hung up on my mother and answered the call.  Lacey was calling to tell me she was pregnant.  I distinctly remembering shreaking from joy and then stopping myself to ask her how she felt about this.  I think it is a fair bet to say that in that conversation, I was by far the most excited (what can I say, I'm nutty about babies)  We talked for a while about the pregnancy, nutrition, how to deal with anxiety and I'm sure a million other things.  Knowing Lacey's fears, she was promptly moved to the top of my daily prayer list (which is prayed for from 5 am to 6 am while I get ready for work).  We also texted a lot.  Right about the time she started getting used the whole pregnant thing, I got a second phone call.  This time, I was in the middle of doing something, answered the phone and thus set fire to something in my kitchen because I went into 911 mode when I saw the call.  She was calling to tell me she was expecting twins.  Again, I was the most excited person on the phone.  I think if we had nicknames to describe our reactions from my point of view, I would be name Wild and Unbridled Joy.  Lacey would be named Cautious Optimisim Leading up to Joy.  

Without telling you about every single sonogram pic I saw, every single text and phone call, and every single detail of Lacey's pregnancy, I will tell you this.  Every phone call ended with prayer over Lacey's mind, body, emotions and the health of those babies.  Every discussion about gender and baby names and diaper brands and everything else are memories I treasure.    But it is not just the memories of these times we shared that I'm going to remember for the rest of my life.  

What I will remember most about those 9 month is this.  In that 9 months I watched my friend leave behind the cares, anxieties, and troubles of her life to focus solely on her mental, emotional, spiritual and physical health for the sake of her children.  While I watched this I noticed something else.  Even though she still had the same cares and troubles, they stopped mattering as much and by virtue of that fact, stopped troubling her as much.  I watched Lacey grow and mature in ways that astounded me (and I'm hard to astound).  For lack of a better visual image, I watched her turn from a caterpillar into butterfly.  It is a sad comparison for what I saw, but it's the best I can do short of writing a symphony about it.  I watched a miracle.  I watched an answer to years of crying out to God.  I watched the process of cells turn into two perfect little boys.  I watched the perfect doctor be in the perfect place at the perfect time.  I watched Lacey fit all the stuff for two babies into an already tiny house.  Every day of that 9 months was a beautiful, joyful miracle and I'm not even the one who experienced it.  

If we could name children based only on the landmarks of the paths we walk until their births, those boys would be named Grace and Joy.  Thankfully, I'm not in charge of baby names :)

Lacey Brynn Gamble Casey.  This was written because I had a story to tell and this is the only way I know to even begin to express how much you mean to me and the point to which you have impacted my life.  You are one of the strongest, wisest, Christ-like people that I know.  Being a part of your life has been a rich blessing that I'm not sure I have any right to.  My deepest and most heart-felt prayer for you is that in the coming years of your life, no matter what storms or troubles come that you will be able to hold on tight to who you are in Christ and the promise that brings.  If you ever need reminding, ask me about the Lacey that I see, the marriage that I see, and the parents that I see in you and Brian.  If I had to pick one Bible verse to ever say or remind you of, it would be 2 Corinthians 5:17-21   In the Revised Martha Edition of the Bible it would say this. 

Because you are a part of Christ as He is a part of you, you will continually transform into a new creation.  The old you has died and a new one has come.  This is a gift from God who through Christ brought us to himself, reconciled how we see ourselves with how He sees us and gave to us the ability to show this to others.  This is because through Christ, God reconciled the world to himself and did not count their trespasses against them, and then called them to take that message to the world.  Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ and God can use us as his voice.  For your sake, he took on your sin so that you are now free to transform into the righteousness OF God.  

Thank you for letting me into your life 20 something years ago.  Thank you for choosing to let me remain there.  Thank you most of all for seeing my heart and who I really am under all the crap from my life and my family and for always being there to remind me to keep cleaning off the mud because somewhere under there, there has to be a diamond :)

HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY DECLAN AND ETHAN!!!!

Lacey at 9 months

Declan and Ethan with Aunt Martha